


Impulse Control

by trashrings



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Finger, Anal Plug, BDSM, Bondage, Cages, Chastity, Choking, Cock Cages, D/s, Deepthroating, Denial, Dom/sub, Edging, Hand Jobs, Leather, M/M, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Orgasm Denial, Original Character(s), Sensory Deprivation, Spreader Bars, Throat Fucking, arm binders, breath play, force, reverse prayer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-10-04 04:09:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10267919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashrings/pseuds/trashrings
Summary: Dane has found himself in a 24/7 D/s relationship with an unnamed man only referred to as "Sir." He is given a challenge to learn how to control his volume and in the middle of it he decides that perhaps the punishment for failing might be fun to try. But is he prepared to take it?Very heavy on domination, bondage, and other such themes.(formerly posted under ThorHugs)





	1. Chapter 1

It wasn't that that Dane was in trouble. This wasn't a punishment. It was a lesson. Not for misbehavior, but simply learning something new. Volume proved to be an issue in certain situations, and if they wanted to continue, he needed to learn how to control it. Gags couldn't always be used discreetly. Being told to be quiet, ordered and punished never did the trick. He lacked discipline when his mouth wasn't occupied. 

The plan was simple. He just needed to last through the length of a movie without getting so loud that the movie couldn't be heard. Which would have been easy, if not for a few complicating factors. First, his cock had been locked away for a solid week. Before the movie started, he already ached for everything. Second, Sir intended to stroke and tease and touch him the entire time. Sitting there untouched would have been difficult enough. Third, without a gag he was expected to control his volume the entire time, without any assistance. Fourth, and finally, he could barely move. The more restricted Dane felt, the more it turned him on. His arms were held in a simple box tie across his back, ropes crossing over his chest and cinching his upper arms close to his body making it next to impossible to move. His legs were separate, calves lashed to thighs. It left him some range of movement, but only enough to be useless and frustrating. A thick, leather blindfold kept him in the dark, pressing against his ears and muffling the world even further than the thick earplugs did. With his head nestled in Sir's lap, he could barely make out the sound of the TV. To soft and distorted to make out words, to tell what movie Sir had chosen. Was it an hour and a half of explosions and action? Or three hours of the hushed whispers of a fantasy epic? How would he know how loud he could get? But that was part of the lesson.

If he could pass this lesson, the rewards would be worth it. But failing would result in punishment equal to the reward. Sir would allow him to cum when they were through, and he would have a week of complete freedom without the cage. If he couldn't pass it, he would be iced down and immediately put back into his cage. Sir would then use him for the night, and they would try again in a week. 

At first, it didn't seem all that bad. Sir's fingers were light and teasing making Dane squirm and whimper, pulling away before he became overwhelmed. It left him feeling warm and fuzzy, almost cozy there on the couch. But soon, those gentle touches and teases evolved. Fingers wrapped loosely around his cock, stroking slow and lazily. An idle sort of movement as fingers ran through his hair, as if Sir were barely paying attention. Ten minutes of that had Dane's cheeks burning, lips pressed together in a desperate desire to start begging. But if he actually spoke, if he uttered a single word, it meant he automatically failed the test and they'd end right then and there. No begging for more or less, for something different, and certainly no pleading for release. Dane was only to stay quiet. That rule seemed easy at first, but now he dreaded breaking it out of sheer desperation.

Twenty minutes later, he was biting his lip so hard it hurt, his hips writhing, trying to get more friction. His breath huffed out of his nose and he could hear every desperate inhale behind the ear plugs. Every small sound he made seemed too loud, had him fearing a return to the cage. But that only made it worse. If he failed before the movie ended, would he still have to make it to the end? Frustrated into madness to only be denied for a week. That idea thrilled him more than the reward. He'd never gone two weeks in the cage before. Just one had him frantic and desperate. What would two weeks feel like?

That notion fell away as Sir's grip tightened, stroking more earnestly. Every thought, every conscious effort went into staying quiet. Biting hard on his lip as small sounds escaped. Whimpering moans and needy pleas from the back of his throat. Slow, deep strokes giving him what he'd wanted for the last week. At last. But as he struggled to stay quiet, a new threat loomed as he felt the familiar burn starting to build deep behind his navel. He hadn't been told he could cum. He hadn't been told it was forbidden, either. But the standing rule remained that he needed permission. A rule that always resulted in immediate and swift punishment. He couldn't say anything. He couldn't warn or ask, he couldn't even cry out. His head drove back against Sir's thigh, a quiver settling into his own limbs as that white-hot pressure kept building. His small sounds grew more frantic, not wanting to fail so soon. 

Sir's hand pulled away at what seemed to be the last possible moment. Dane lay there, tense and shivering as his body threatened to betray him even with stimulation removed. Slowly, the burning coil seemed to relax and he was able to breathe again. Sir murmured something that he couldn't make out, gently stroking his hair. Perhaps he'd passed some milestone. Done something well. Those fingers in his hair felt better than any praise that could be uttered. It allowed him to breathe a little easier. 

He lost track of how long he lay there, one hand resting on his chest, the other petting his hair. Still buzzing from being so close to the edge, it let him drift away and just fall quiet. For just a moment thinking maybe he'd passed the test, even as the voices of the movie carried on as muffled whispers. Even as Sir's hand started to play over his skin, a thumb brushing over his nipple, a warm hand sliding over his stomach. 

The cycle repeated again. Light intermittent touches, passing into idle stroking, building into earnestness, halting with him right on the edge. This time, he struggled to swallow frantic cries, physically biting his tongue to keep from getting too loud. This time, as he slowly came down he wasn't sure he wanted to pass the test. The promise of doing this again in another week, of being even more desperate, seemed like more of a reward than anything else. The way he seemed to lose the ability to even think for those blissful moments he hugged that edge. 

The third time through the cycle, he wasn't sure he wanted to hold back. Even if he did want to, he found it harder and harder with each breath to stay quiet. Was Sir stroking harder than before? Hitting different spots? Or was his resolve crumbling as rapidly as a sandcastle in the waves? He must have started to get louder because two of Sir's fingers pushed between his lips. He instinctively closed his lips around them, sucking on them as if they were Sir's cock. That lesson he'd learned early and learned fast to the point that he didn't even think about it. Lifting his head from Sir's lap, he tried to take the fingers deeper, tongue sliding over them, all the while small needy sounds escaping around them.

Before he knew it, Sir's hand pulled away and he was left gasping on the edge once again. His skin glistened with sweat as he shivered and whimpered. Sir didn't want him to fail. Wanted him to learn and stay quiet. But how could Dane ask to do this again? Of all things they'd done, nothing had felt quite like this. It reminded him of the first time he'd worn the cage. Just for a day. The thrill of knowing he couldn't get off, the tingle of fear and anticipation. He didn't want it stop.

They were only halfway through another cycle when Dane's thoughts started to swim away from him. His head grew fuzzier faster and he couldn't hold onto any thoughts. It just felt so damn good. Passing or failing no longer became a matter of choice. His body shuddered with desperate need, his back arching and grinding his head back against Sir's leg as his hips jerked and teasing fingers. The last vestige of his will tried to keep him quiet, strangled sounds escaping his throat. He knew he was risking failure when a firm hand wrapped over his mouth. 

He cooled down, but his thoughts didn't return. He just floated, buzzing and disconnected from the world. Time had long since lost meaning. There was only Sir's hands on him and the cool touch of air on his bare skin. The build and fall of those touches. The cycle seemed to have stopped as even small touches left him quivering and desperate.

He didn't even realize he'd failed until he felt the sting of the cry after it left his throat. A hand clamped over his mouth, but it was too late. That first cry bred more, muffled behind the hand, as his hips bucked, trying to find the release he craved. Distantly, Dane thought it would simply end there. He'd failed, shouldn't he be punished? But the teasing continued, as he futilely tried to keep a lid on his voice. Sir held him close as he squirmed and writhed, each movement only making him more desperate. 

The movie must have ended, because Sir slowly extracted himself from the couch, letting Dane down onto the cushions. He walked away, leaving Dane shivering and wanting to apologize for failing, both fearing and looking forward to what came next. 

A warm hand on his thigh made him flinch. The soft muffled sound of Sir's voice. A soft cloth wrapped around his rigid cock, the feel of Sir's fingers through the fabric made him shiver. He knew what came next and he braced for it. But there was no holding back the pathetic whimper that escaped him as the firm pressure pressed around the cloth, cold rapidly seeping from the ice pack into his skin. His erection shrank, but somehow it did little to dampen the feeling of arousal. A desperate ache deep inside his gut, now with no outlet. He whimpered and shuddered, trying to apologize without words. 

He felt the familiar touch of his cage, slender bars that hugged his cock on a daily basis. His cock must not have fallen as far as it had felt like because the bars bit into his skin almost immediately, teasing him with the reminder that he could no longer get fully hard. He felt more than heard the lock close, sealing his fate on another week of frustration. 

Sir's hands slid over his legs and stomach, before teasing over his trapped cock. It made him flinch, letting out a small whine. He still hadn't been given permission to speak. 

Strong hands moved him, adjusting his position. He shifted as best as he could but what could he do? He soon found himself face-first on the cushions, his knees under him so his ass rose in the air. He was still too fuzzy in the head to see it for what it was until a cool, slick finger pushed into his exposed hole. He cried out and tried to sit up, tried to pull away. 

But this was his punishment for failing. Sir would use him, play with him, when he was still so very frustrated. 

As he squirmed against the finger, Sir grabbed him by the hair, forcing his head up. But only a little. The tip of Sir's cock pressed to his lips. He wanted to resist, to refuse. He'd failed, he should be punished. Not awarded with such a privilege. But Sir insisted, coaxing him forward. Dane opened his lips, swallowing the length easily. He bobbed his head as best as he could, Sir's hand forcing him further down. For several perilous moments, he couldn't draw a breath. But as always, he settled, holding it. Even as his lungs burned and his head swam, he didn't fight it. Sir's finger worked him from behind, and his entire body shivered. His lungs started to cry out for air, his tongue shoved at the length in his mouth, trying to push it free so he could breathe. Only when he tried to jerk back out of pure instinct, his body fighting of it's own according to breathe, did Sir drag his head back. He sucked in ragged breaths as saliva streamed down his chin. 

A second finger pushed into him, making his thighs quiver.

He'd barely caught his breath when Sir forced his head back down again. This time he was able to draw in a deep breath before his airway was cut off. Braced now, he held on as long as he could. The force of the pumping fingers made it difficult to focus, his cock straining in its prison. Even as the fight kicked in, Sir continued to hold him. His throat spasmed, he bucked and thrashed in his bonds. Only when he felt the edges of his mind starting to dim was he pulled back. This time he coughed and gulped at the air, uncaring about the undignified amounts of drool streaming down his chin.

Sir only held his head back so he could gasp for the air he'd been deprived, as he slowly worked in a third finger. Between hoarse breaths, he whimpered and wanted so desperately to plead. Whether for more or for it stop, he wasn't sure. He tugged at the ropes around his arms, too stimulated to see the direction of his own desires. 

Before he could sort it out, he was forced down again, far enough that his nose pressed against Sir's stomach. He bucked and thrashed, not quite prepared this time. Maybe that's what Sir wanted. For him to thrash and fight, because even through the ear plugs, he could hear Sir moaning. Even as he gagged and sputtered and tried to pull away. He started to fear that Sir might keep him there until he passed out. The edges of his mind started to crumble as the rest of his head filled with static. 

At the last possible moment, when he was one step away from falling to complete darkness, Sir dragged his head back. He sucked in a breath that made his throat burn, made him even dizzier than before. Distantly, he could hear Sir saying something, while his fingers continued to work steady and firm.

Slowly, Dane started to understand. This was a preview of what he was in for over the coming week. He didn't get to know what was happening, or what Sir intended. He was a thing. Something to be used. The very idea was almost enough to send him over the edge, his cock already so hard it practically burned. He shuddered and jerked against the invading fingers, pushing back for even more. He knew he wasn't supposed to cum, that it was forbidden. But he wanted it too bad to heed the rules, sheer desire overriding his manners.

Whether Sir realized this or was just being cruel, the fingers pulled free before Dane could reach that point. Firm hands pushed him onto his back once more, then...nothing. Dane expected a touch. A barely heard word. Something. But as far as he could tell, Sir had simply stepped away. Dane's hips squirmed, every stirring of the air a jolt against his cock.

Moments ticked by. Was it minutes or hours? Time had become a fuzzy concept to Dane, with only the rush of his pulse to mark the seconds. It felt like both incredibly short and impossibly long at all once when a cold hand finally settled on his thigh.

He flinched, knowing instantly what the chill meant. He shook his head, lips pressed together to prevent himself from outright begging. It had been a week. Couldn't he just get off to get soft? That would be easier, wouldn't it? A low whimper escaped his throat as air around his cock dropped several dramatic degrees. He could feel the cold curling off the ice pack well before it touched him, but he knew better than to try to pull away. Not that he could with his legs so bound, though. 

Even through a cloth, the touch of the ice pack was an electric shock. His head drove back against the couch as he let out a pathetic whine, hips jerking and twitching. While the chill made him softer by the moment, it managed to kick his arousal up several notches. Knowing that very soon he'd be locked away again, that Sir had such command over him, was heady and overpowering. He truly was nothing but a toy for Sir to play with.

He barely felt the cage sliding back on, the cold having left him rather numb. But he certainly felt the cold metal tucked behind his balls and sitting flush with his body. He felt the lock click shut and he couldn't help the faint sob that escaped him. He wanted to beg forgiveness, for another chance. He'd messed up. He'd do better next time. The promise of a week of being used had been too tempting to ignore, but now a faint trickle of dread started to sink in. Just what was he in for? 

Before he had a chance to fully adjust to the weight of the cage again, Sir dragged him to the floor. He grunted as his knees hit the carpet, but he had no way to brace himself. His knees pressed against the front of the couch, as Sir moved him into place. It took long enough, that the chill in his cock had started to wear off. The shift in temperature made the burn of arousal as hot as a branding iron. 

He didn't need to wait long to know what Sir wanted. The tip of his still rigid cock pressed against Dane's lips. Out of habit and need, he parted his lips, already moving to take it into his mouth. Sucking Sir's dick was something he was not only accustomed to, but enjoyed doing. And he knew just how Sir liked it. He didn't need hands or sight to do it right. But apparently, that wasn't what Sir wanted.

A fist grabbed Dane by the hair and forced him down. A hand under his chin kept his head steady, guiding him with more precision. He wasn't forced down as far this time, or for as along, but it quickly became clear that Dane didn't even have the power to suck it under his own steam. He truly was to be used as an inanimate object, a toy that had no mind and no drive. All he could do was make sure his lips were wrapped around the shaft as Sir moved him back and forth, using his grasp to turn his head to get just the right angle. It left Dane panting, his own cock already straining against the thin bars of the cage.

Soon, Sir was forcing his head down harder and faster. A crushing force that Dane could barely keep up with. Pushing him down further and for longer, until he was struggling to breathe each time. Until he barely had a chance to catch his breath between strokes. The shallow, frantic breaths left him dizzy and unsteady, but that didn't seem to matter to Sir. In fact, the frantic fluttering of his throat trying to find breath around the intruding shaft seemed to excite Sir further. Dane was left squirming, his chest jerking and twitching each time he couldn't get his breath. What little he could sense of the world started to fall away. His entire body tingled and burned. He could hear Sir's groans, loud and clear even through the earplugs. 

Dane was certain Sir only intended to leave him unconscious. He'd threatened once already, but now it seemed inevitable. Even the feeling of the weight on his tongue seemed to be fading away. Until all at once heat exploded against the back of his throat. He choked and gagged, some of it leaking out over his tongue, but long ingrained habit left him swallowing around it, even as stood at the edge of unconsciousness. 

At once, Sir pulled free and Dane sucked in a breath that left him dizzier still. He wavered, trying to find his bearings under the weight of the blindfold. He barely had a chance to lick the salty residue from his lips when Sir forced something between his teeth. A firm, silicone ball. Not the largest Sir had, which told Dane it was meant to be in place for quite some time. The buckle cinched tight behind his head, the straps digging into his cheeks. How long? He wanted to demand, but he wasn't meant to know. 

Chest still heaving as he tried to catch his breath, now only able to breathe through his nose, Sir pushed him forward onto the couch. He was thankful just to have a little support, his limbs feeling quivery and watery. He felt a cold pressure against his hole, not frigid but still a chill. The slick toy pushed into him steadily, growing wider and wider. For a precarious moment, he started to wonder just how large of a plug Sir intended for him, when his body finally was able to relax around the base. It felt a little bigger than his usual toys, but not by much. Dane could just let out a soft moan, his hips squirming as he tried to accommodate to the girth. 

He felt something cold against his thigh, then all at once the ropes fell away from his legs. The same thing happened to his arms, the ropes cut away in one swift motion. But he didn't have the strength to move now that he was free. Weak from being choked, still too aroused to be coherent. And it seemed Sir didn't expect him to move, as he set to fastening cuffs around wrists and ankles. Wrists clipped to wrists, ankles to ankles. Dane could only let out a soft protest.

All at once, he was lifted from the floor. Not cradled, but thrown over Sir's shoulder. His trapped cock pressed against Sir's chest, making him squirm with agony and need. The movement earned him a sharp slap to the back of his thigh, making him whimper harder. 

When he was at last put down, it wasn't on the bed. It was the floor. No, not quite the floor. The cage in the bedroom, where Sir forced him to go when he'd really been bad. Easily concealed beneath the bed. He tried to protest, even if the floor was softened with pillows and blankets. Couldn't he at least be on the bed? But Sir either ignored or didn't notice as he maneuvered Dane further into the cage.

Distantly, Dane heard the sound of the door falling shut. No doubt, the click of the lock engaging had followed, but that was too soft for him to hear. Before he had time to consider his lot, he felt Sir's hand reach through the bars. Something clipped to the short chain between his wrists, then again to the one between his ankles. A brief tug told him all he needed to know. It wasn't a full hog-tie, the chain must be a foot long. But it certainly left very little range of movement.

No matter how he moved, there was no way to ignore how he'd been bound. The cuffs or the plug or the cage. Sir had thought of everything. Just cuffed, Dane would have eventually found a way to get his hands in front of himself. From there he could take off anything but the cage. Unless they were locked on. Realizing this, he lifted his head, shaking it. Then again. Against the back of his head, for both blindfold and gag, he felt the distinctive rattle and weight of a small pad lock. That probably meant the same for the cuffs, as well.

He dropped his head back to his pillow, letting out a faint whimper. Even if he could overcome the cuffs and chains, he was completely stuck. Left to wait, bound, blind, mute, deaf, plugged and locked. Hidden away in his cage until Sir decided to play with him again. Just like a proper toy in its toy box.

As terrifying as that prospect seemed, waiting that way for hours on end, he'd never been so aroused in his entire life. He dreaded and gleefully anticipated the coming week.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You can't start a big day without a good breakfast. Dane learns just what his Sir has in store for him over the coming week.

Sleep came and went in a haze. Blind and deaf, he could never quite tell where drifting faded into sleep or sleep faded into waking. It felt more that his awareness of the gag holding his mouth open faded in and out, with no clear line between forgetting about it and simply sleeping. Barely able to move, the concept of time slipped further and further away each time he dozed. How long had it been? How much longer would it be? He had no way to answer these things. He had only his own breathing and pulse to mark the seconds, and an arousal that refused to fade. Every time he shifted to relieve strain on one limb or another, he was reminded firmly of his situation. Every tug of his cuffs or bite against the ball sent shivers through him, made his cock stir against the bars that trapped it. He couldn't even strain to hear if Sir slept above him, or stirred around the room. Nothing to do but sleep, and dream of what awaited him in the coming week. 

It could have been an hour, it could have been twelve, Dane couldn't be sure. But when he at last felt the touch of Sir's hand, he jumped. Somehow, still so sensitive the touch felt electric. He was dragged half out of the door of the cage, the chain holding wrist and ankles together removed. Just as when he'd been brought in, Sir picked him up and carried him out of the bedroom. It was only by the faint scent of soaps and bleach that Dane recognized the bathroom. Good thing, too, because he was able to brace for the touch of cold tile on his knees as Sir set him down. 

Hands moved over his hair and the back of his head. Unlocking the gag and blindfold, perhaps? But they didn't come off. Instead, Sir's hands moved to his ears, slowly tugging the earplugs free. Muffled words blossomed into almost too loud words. "--to keep my new toy clean," he was saying. 

Dane shook his head slightly, wanting to work his jaw to clear his ears, but he couldn't around the ball. 

"Stay still," Sir commanded, a hand on Dane's chin forcing his head back up. "Leather and showers don't mix, so when I take this off you are to keep your eyes shut, do you understand?" When Dane didn't respond right away, too distracted by what that could mean for him, Sir slapped him hard across the cheek. "I won't ask you twice."

Typically, Sir was more lenient than that, giving Dane time to work it through and respond. The fact that he was supposed to comply without processing made him nervous in a way that sent shivers to his groin. He nodded, not taking the time to think about it. Eyes closed. Got it. 

"Good," Sir said firmly, slowly working the buckle of the blindfold free. As tempted as he was to take a peek, Dane kept his eyes shut. Only because even the light through his eyelids made his eyes ache after spending so long in the dark. He squeezed them shut harder as he felt dampness welling up behind his eyelids. Relief followed quickly, as a soft cloth pressed to his face. It pressed tight, a fabric blindfold tied behind his head. 

With that taken care of, Sir slowly removed the gag. That required no instruction, as Dane had learned some time ago that he was not to speak unless given permission to do so. He just worked his jaw and drew in deep breaths through his mouth as Sir moved on to the cuffs. Once the initial ache faded from his jaw, he returned to his previous thoughts. What was Sir doing? The punishment to treat him like a toy didn't extend to every aspect of their lives did it? Sure, he wore a collar always and there were some loose rules for the day-to-day, but they'd never really gone for the slave lifestyle. They had their intense sessions, before fading back into laying in a tangled pile on the couch watching movies. Even with the week in the cage, the bit of metal was the only thing that was constant. They still shared coffee and breakfast, still had dinner like normal. Did Sir really intend for this session to last a full week? Or was the fabric over his eyes just to acclimate him back to the light? Wouldn't Sir explain it?

"On your feet," Sir ordered, cutting off his questions. A good thing, too, because he was pressing his lips together against all he wanted to ask. Sir's hands guided him into the tub. Forced him to kneel once more. Dane's hands gripped his thighs. He knew why he was being kept in the dark, metaphorically and literally. It was the same answer he'd had last night as he lay unmoving in his cage.

Toys didn't get explanations or reasons. They were used, played with, nothing more. They had a purpose they filled without question.

Dane gripped his thighs harder. A thrill shot through him. Was Sir going to follow through for a week, or was this just for show? Dane wasn't sure which one he wanted more. A week of being used like an object, treated like a toy, was something out of his darkest fantasies. Something he'd always dreamed of. But at the same time it terrified him enough to make him shiver in ways that had nothing to do with chill or arousal. It meant he didn't have a choice. He was to be used at Sir's whims, simple as that.

Lukewarm water hit his back, making him sit up straighter. Sir said nothing as he doused Dane with the sprayer. The water trickled over his body, falling easily through the narrow bars of the cage. He let out a small whimper, still so very sensitive. But Sir didn't seem to notice as he set the sprayer aside, trading it for a sudsy wash cloth. Dane started to move, accommodating in ways he thought he should for a bath. But it was weird, he'd never been bathed by another person before. Well, at least not since he was old enough to remember. But after a few attempts to help, pain blossomed on his chest. Sir didn't so much pinch his nipple as clamp down on it.

He yelped, and Sir tugged harder. "Toys don't move," he snapped. 

With a nod, Dane settled, trying to not squirm under the pressure of Sir's hand. Finally, he let go, perhaps satisfied with Dane's stillness. The washcloth scrubbed him methodically, working from the shoulders down. As it passed over his backside, Sir made sure to press the plug, twisting and wiggling it. A moan escaped Dane's lips, strangled as he tried to stay still. As Sir pulled on it, he tried to relax, his breath making his chest heave. He expected it to be pulled free, so he could be fully cleaned, but instead the wash cloth just wandered down to his thighs.

The plug was staying? For how long? No, he couldn't ask. He bit hard on his tongue. A bad idea as the rough wash cloth started to wash over his cage. He bit harder, causing himself pain as he let out a muffled cry. His cock tried to jump to attention, still desperate for release after the night before. Straining harder as the rough cloth moved to his balls. But the washing continued down his thighs without offering relief. He whimpered when Sir finally pulled his hand away, breathing hard. 

The water returned, pouring over his shoulders and back. After the cloth, it felt almost gentle, washing away the soap clinging to his skin. But as it moved to rinse off his stomach, he tensed. The water poured through the cage just like before, but now the sprayer moved lower and lower. He wanted to protest, that it would be too much, but toys didn't speak, did they? He flinched as the small jets fell over his trapped shaft, feeling needle-sharp. It lingered there, passing over the length, turning to get underneath. He started to whimper before he could stop himself. Desperate, keening sounds, wanting to beg for it to stop. Just when he thought he couldn't take another moment, the water passed on to other parts of his body.

Soon, the water shut off. A rough towel passed over Dane's torso in broad strokes before settling over his shoulders. "Up." The single, gruff word was all the warning Dane had before a finger hooked into the ring of his collar and tugged sharply upward. Sir knew just the right angle to hinder Dane's breathing and make him scramble to his feet, made more difficult behind the blindfold on the slippery tub. Once upright, the towel was dragged over the rest of his body. Sir lingered longer than necessary over the cage, as if trying to dry each individual bar. Dane swore he could feel every fiber like steel wool, and he struggled to not pull away. Small sounds continued to escape him, but Sir seemed to neither notice or care. 

He continued on, over legs and backside. He grasped the plug, twisting and tugging on it slightly. Dane had to bite down on his lip, lest he cry out in surprise. It was still very firmly in place, which Sir did not seem keen to change. 

Another tug on the collar, this one to the side. "Step up, over the edge." A hand grabbed Dane behind the knee, helping him step up high enough to clear the side of the tub. He barely got his footing on the floor when Sir moved, dragging him out of the bathroom. They weren't far into the bedroom when he simply said, "Kneel," as he tugged down on the collar.

Dane practically crashed to his knees. Firm hands set to fastening cuffs around Dane's wrists. No, not just cuffs. These came with something else, leather that surrounded his hands. With a few snaps and clips, Dane quickly found his hands forced into loose fists, encased in leather. The cuffs were fastened to each other, behind his back. Next came a strap of leather, slowly cinched tight around his elbows. Sir knew he was flexible, not stopping until his elbows touched. The strap looped around a few more times before he heard the tell-tale click of a lock. 

But Sir wasn't finished there. Another click and a tug on the cage. Something attached to the back, behind his balls. Slowly, he realized what it was. Another strap, that Sir was drawing up between his wrists. Tighter and tighter, until it pressed against his body, and the plug. He wound and fastened that as well, securing it so it was taught. Dane shifted, testing it. Not only did it tug and jostle the cage, but it pressed against the plug with every shift. 

Only training kept him from blurting something out. The strap made him sit as stiffly rigid as possible. Or at least it would have if Sir hadn't grabbed his collar again. Tugging him to his feet, with another command of "Up." The movement required to get to his feet left him shaky and out of breath by the time he was upright, the straps unforgiving. But Sir wasn't about to let him settle. They were walking again. Out of the bedroom. Each step maddening. He knew the house well, but couldn't place their path. He was too busy trying to find a way to walk that didn't make that damned strap shift between his legs.

Only when his knees met cold linoleum did he realize they'd made it to the kitchen. And there he was left to sit, trying desperately to not move, listening to Sir moving around the space. Moments stretched into minutes, and Dane realized this wasn't just to make him wait. Hearing the water run and the click of the toaster, Sir was making breakfast. How long was Dane expected to sit and wait? 

No, not just wait. This was training. His punishment for not sitting still in the shower. That strap was Sir's voice scolding him every time he shifted. Reminding him that toys didn't move. They didn't squirm or shift. But he couldn't be expected to always be still, could he? Sir just kept going in the kitchen, ignoring Dane. Faint smells of coffee and toast filled the space, making Dane's stomach growl. He bit his lip, wanting to ask if he'd at least be allowed to eat.

Sir moved passed him and he could hear the sound of items being placed on the table. Maybe this was done and they could eat together, just as they did yesterday. But a finger hooked into the collar again, and Dane was dragged forward, forced to stumble on his knees. Rough hands guided him into place until his back and arms were against the leg of the wooden table. Another strap, cinched around his shoulders, fixing him to the leg. A second, around his hips. He couldn't move if he wanted to. 

A gentle hand passed over his head and cheek, a thumb caressing his lips. When he tried to take the thumb into his mouth, the pad just pressed down, Sir simply saying "Not until I tell you." The hand moved away and Dane was left more breathless than when he'd tried to walk. It was a gesture that Sir used often to show affection, but now it felt far more charged than before. Dane rested his head back against the table, listening to Sir settle, no longer sure if he wanted this to end, or for Sir to touch him more. 

He was still debating this fact when the smell of toasted bread grew stronger. "Open," was all Sir said, and he obliged. Something touched his tongue and he closed his mouth. A small piece of bagel with cream cheese. He chewed and swallowed. Eating breakfast while strapped to the table. Of all the things they'd done, this struck him as quite possibly one of the kinkiest things. 

Sir continued to feed him small pieces of bagel and some grapes. He even carefully let Dane sip some of his coffee. All without anything more said than simple commands. There were touches between, gentle pets and caresses. Almost idle and distracted. By the time Sir stood to clear the table, Dane was more frustrated than he'd been on the couch last night, only now there wasn't an end in sight for quite some time.

This time, when Sir came back, he ran his hand over Dane's cheek again. And again, he pressed his thumb to the sub's lips. Only this time, it came with the command "open." Dane complied, parting his lips to suck on Sir's thumb. His tongue slid over it, teasing, his head bobbing forward. But suddenly, a rough hand grasped his head and forced him back against the table. "Toys. Don't. Move." Sir said, his voice low and warning.

Dane just swallowed, not responding. A nod would be moving.

"Good toy," Sir purred, his thumb returning as Dane tried again, this time without moving his head. After a few moments, Sir let out a soft, pleased moan, and pulled his thumb free. His fist still in Dane's hair, he got to his feet. 

Dane didn't need further command when he felt the pressure against his lips, and knew the familiar, salty taste of Sir's cock. Dane must have done very well, because Sir was already hard. And it was good that Dane opened his mouth, because Sir didn't wait for him before pushing deeper. No warm up this time, no gentle start. His head was forced back against the table, as Sir buried his cock deep in Dane's mouth. 

Sir let out a low, guttural groan, before pulling back. It left Dane dragging in a ragged breath, but only one before Sir pushed in again. Dane struggled to not choke around the shaft, holding his breath and trying to sit still. Sir was merciful and didn't linger long. His next thrust was shallower, leaving Dane to catch his breath. As was true for those that followed. After a few, he was able to find Sir's rhythm with his tongue, teasing the shaft and trying to not move his head. But each time Sir went deeper, making him struggle to breathe, his legs shifted. He tugged on that strap, moving the cage and pushing on the plug. It didn't take long before he was light headed, the thrusts blurring together.

His lack of attention didn't deter Sir at all, in fact, it seemed to be just what he wanted. He sped up, bit by bit, until he was thrusting deep and hard into Dane's throat. All Dane could do was breath between them, no longer able to follow the rhythm. But then Sir started to slow. Grinding deep and hard, making Dane's eyes water. Until all at once, he exploded against the back of Dane's throat. He held it there, Dane struggling to swallow around the shaft. 

Slowly, Sir pulled free of Dane's mouth, leaving the sub to drag in desperate, deep breaths. But he wasn't going to be given the option to relax. The bitter taste of rubber invaded his mouth. But this time it wasn't a ball. A short, phallic shape pressed over his tongue as Sir quickly fastened the strap behind his head. 

Next, without a word, Sir pushed a pair of foam plugs into Dane's ears. As they expanded, the outside world slowly went away, being reduced to the most muffled sounds. Then another strap, like those around his torso, wrapped around his head. But this one didn't go around once. It passed over his forehead, his eyes, and across the gag. Once fastened, it cinched tight, forcing the gag a little deeper. It forced his head back against the table, rendering him unable to move. 

Dane wasn't sure he wanted to move. Because toys didn't move. And if being a toy meant being so aggressively fucked, so absolutely used, he wanted to be the best toy he could be.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dane's first full day as a toy for his Sir is a lot longer and more exhausting than he'd planned for.

The morning slipped on, or so Dane assumed. Slowly, his eagerness to remain still, to be a good toy, began to wear off. Linoleum under bare proved to be incredibly uncomfortable without distraction. His legs folded beneath him were growing tired and cramped from holding him in position, but any shifting caused the strap between his legs to tug and shift his cage. The sensation made him see stars of two different varieties, it hurt almost unbearably but at the same time even that small amount of pressure and friction made him twitch and surge with absolute need. It took all he had to not groan with each shift, having learned that was a bad idea. The gag made it difficult to swallow, drool leaking around it. But if he started to make sound, he risked choking on his own saliva. That all in turn made the whole situation humiliating and frustrating, in every possible way. In the end he was completely helpless, strapped to the table, unable to even hear if Sir were still in the room to see his struggle to not squirm.

When his thighs had started to tremble from sitting there, a light touch on his cheek startled him. It made him twitch hard, tugging on that strap, he managed to not make a sound, but instead sucking in a sharp breath through his nose. As he settled again, he could feel tugging at the straps that secured him to the table. Then the one around his head began to loosen, slowly slithering fee and falling away. Sir worked down his body, carefully freeing him from the table of the leg. 

Still barely able to hear anything, completely blind, and mouth stuffed full, Sir slowly started to guide Dane to his feet. He wobbled like a young fawn, legs half asleep from his time on the floor. Once he was steady enough, Dane felt a sharp tug on his collar and he nearly pitched forward onto the floor. Bound the same as he'd been on the way in, he found it more difficult now. Was it the ear plugs or the frustration that made walking in a straight line so much more complicated? Every time he wavered or stumbled, the strap between his legs tugged painfully at his cock. Now able to tip his head forward, he couldn't stop the small, involuntary whimpers that escaped him. It didn't help that with his head forward he was also leaving streaks of saliva down his chest. 

Before long, he found himself guided down again, landing face-first on what he knew all too well to be Sir's large bed. Strong hands helped maneuver him fully onto the bed, leaving his caged cock pressed agonizingly to the sheets. There was no escape, as trying to squirm to avoid the pressure would surely lead to pulling on it with the strap. 

He would not have a reprieve as soon as he'd like, as Sir's hands seemed far more focused on his legs and backside, warm palms sliding over his skin. As much as he longed for more, it was rather calming, laying there as Sir just touched him. But just as he started to relax, he felt a sudden, sharp strike across his backside. It made his whole body twitch, and he let out a low groan. Sir had slapped his ass so hard he could still feel the outline of what must be a blossoming red mark, stinging brightly. It didn't help matters that he'd yanked hard on the strap in the processes. But Sir didn't seem to care or notice, returning to his gentle massage.

Just as the shock of the slap began to fade, Sir landed a second one. This one to his inner thigh. Another jolt, another tug, another groan. Sir's hands returned to their task, before a third. And a fourth. Altering soft touches with sharp, painful slaps. Dane started to lose count, the process leaving him dizzy and frazzled. But with each one, he learned a little more to not jerk so hard, to calm his reactions. But the end result left him more frustrated than he thought possible, his cock pulsing against the bars of the cage. His face pressed to the sheets, he could feel the cool spread of drool on the fabric. Just as he was sure an equally large damp spot grew between his legs, his cock leaking desperately. 

With his backside and thighs ringing with the sting of Sir's hands, things finally started to shift. Sir bent his legs with firm hands, forcing calf against thigh. There, straps wrapped snugly around each. But as they were tightened and secured, Dane became aware of a pressure trapped just behind his knees. As Sir pulled away, he tried to move, finding it incredibly difficult. Only then did he realize what the pressure was. The thin, bamboo pole he'd seen tucked in Sir's closet. Wedged behind his knees as it was, he wasn't going to be moving much at all, as it forced his knees far apart. 

Before Dane could consider the implications of this, Sir's hands moved to his arms. At long last, the strap between his wrists and the cage loosened and came free, as did the strap around his elbows. Sir unclipped his cuffs, leaving his hands still wrapped in leather. Hands started to rub and knead at his back, helping sore and fatigued muscles to relax. Though he braced himself for it, no strikes came this time. 

Just as Dane started to drift, however, things shifted. Sir began fastening his arms behind his back again. Behind the blindfold, Dane's eyes widened as he realized where this was going. His arms were forced up behind his back, forearms pressed together, bent so his hands rested between his shoulderblades. A reverse prayer was a strain, even for as flexible he was. But Sir didn't seem to care. He set to winding straps around Dane's arms, securing them completely. He slowly tightened the final strap near Dane's elbows, not stopping until they touched. It left Dane shivering and panting. 

He had to admit it scared him a little. Usually they slowly worked up to something like this, with Sir being careful and gentle, checking on Dane to ensure he was able to handle these things. He'd never been so direct and callous before. But that thrill that came with the fear fed back into his raging arousal, and he had to admit that as much as it scared him, it thrilled him beyond reason. 

There was a sharp tug on Dane's head before he'd fully accommodated to the new position. Sir bunched Dane's long hair into a loose ponytail and dragged his head back, the front pieces of his hair falling loose around his face. What Dane had thought was a rough fastening of his hair turned out to be something else, because when Sir let go he couldn't lower his head. He'd bound his hair with something that affixed to the straps around his arms. Moving his head only painfully dragged at his scalp.

Next came the gag, unfastened and slowly dragged free. More drool came with it, spilling down Dane's chin and onto the sheets. Sir must have enjoyed this because Dane thought he heard a laugh through the ear plugs. It made his cheeks burn brighter than ever. But he wasn't to be given a chance to work his jaw now that his mouth was free. Something new immediately took its place, wedging behind his teeth.

A ring gag. He could breathe easier now, and swallowing wasn't nearly as difficult, but it meant anything that he couldn't swallow would be dribbling out over his chin much more easily. 

Sir's hands dragged back over Dane's prone body, landing a broad, full-handed slap across his now entirely exposed ass. Dane didn't so much jerk as twitch, unable to move any more than that. It ground his hips hard against the sheets, and dragged a ragged groan from his now unobstructed mouth. Somehow this dragged new feelings of shame from within him. This was a new level of being unable to control himself.

At last, Sir slowly worked the plug free. This, however, pulled a pathetic whimper from Dane as he longed to bury his face against the sheets. Sir's fingers quickly took the place of the plug, working into him a slow but demanding rhythm. Dane tried to writhe against those invading fingers, but he found the position made that incredibly difficult. If he could press his face to the mattress he might be able to lift his hips from the bed. But between his head being dragged back and the brace between his knees, he could barely squirm. He could feel Sir pressing behind him as he whimpered, teeth grazing over his ear. Sir said something, but Dane couldn't make it out. He could only feel the breath on the side of his face and make out the subtle vibrations of speech. Dane let out a pathetic, desperate moan, just wanting to hear his master's voice.

He'd thought this would be just a momentary tease, like everything else had been. But after a few moments, Sir didn't stop. In fact, he was picking up in both speed and force, fingers pumping hard into Dane's ass. Soon he found himself trembling, deep and harsh sounds pushing out of him. 

Rough fingers wrapped over the front of his throat, a threat of what he might do. Dane couldn't tell if he feared or craved it. He could neither pull away or push into that hand, into either hand, forced to just accept whatever Sir wished to do. 

Soon, Dane's breath labored, he started to wonder if it was possible to come without getting properly hard behind the bars of the cage. Did Sir expect him to stop it? Or was Sir showing him it was possible? Before he could even start to consider how to convey this confusion, Sir's fingers tightened around his throat. He let out a garbled sound as his breath was reduced to almost nothing. He could barely drag in the smallest gasps of air, while Sir's other hand relentlessly fucked him. Pushing him closer and closer to that precipice of orgasm. 

He twitched and jerked, feeling as if the need of it would burn him up from the inside. A different sort of burn startled in his lungs, crying for oxygen. He shivered, unable to thrash or squirm against Sir's grasp. 

Then all at once, air flooded into his lungs. It was more dizzying than the lack of it, his lungs fighting his bonds to fill further and further. And yet Sir's other had had not stopped. It slowed to deep, hard strokes that made Dane twitch with each thrust. He let out a strangled whimper, knowing he had no way to hold of an orgasm if it even could happen. 

Sir's hand slowed with each thrust. It the effect of nudging Dane closer and closer to that edge, but without the intent of shoving him over. He quivered and gasped, moaning pathetically. White-hot heat blazed inside him, threatening to consume him, as his cock tried to force its way out of the steel that trapped it. 

When Dane felt as if he were clinging to that tiny, last inch of the edge, when one more thrust would prove whether or not he could be pushed over, Sir pulled his hand free. 

There was a slight caress to his backside, to his leg, then nothing. Dane was left shivering and drooling on the bed, his head filled with the static of desperation. He didn't dare try to call out or try to make a sound. All he was left with was the clinging heat of arousal and the fact that he could feel his pulse in every inch of his body. He ached in more ways than he thought possible. It had been over a week since he'd been allowed an orgasm. Sure, Sir had teased him through that week, but nothing like this. He'd do anything Sir asked of him, if it meant a reprieve from this aching need. But he knew there was much more time to go yet before he'd even be given a chance, and that made so much worse. So much more difficult to endure. 

Lying there, untouched, Dane had nothing but the beat of his own pulse to mark the passage of time. How long had he been on the bed already? How long had Sir massaged and slapped him? How long had Sir fucked him? Trying to pin down any amount of time was like trying to hold water in his bare hands. He was drifting away on the current of mingled agony and bliss, like lingering in that state between awake and asleep after a long and difficult day. His thoughts were as substantial as mist, vaguely shivering from need and strain.

As the ache of his arms and scalp began to creep into his hazy existence, he heard a muffled sound that distantly he thought might be a door closing. Had Sir left the room? 

Warm hands touched his legs, and this time he didn't jump. He just let out a low, pleading sound. He didn't know how much more he could take, but that the same time he wanted to beg for more. He could only squirm and allow another string of saliva drip from his chin. 

Both of Sir's hands grasped his ass cheeks, kneading them firmly. One hand lifted and smacked him, hard. He squirmed and whimpered, as the red mark started to spread over where the others had faded. Three more followed, leaving his ass red and hot. Leaving him shivering and whimpering once more. 

Once Sir's hands pulled away, he felt something cold and slick pressing against his hole. With a faint sound, he tried to relax as much as the position would allow. At first, he thought it was the same plug as before. But as Sir pushed it deeper he realized this one was a little wider and at least twice as long. As it finally sank to the base, Dane let out a low groan. He tried to squirm, feeling incredibly full. 

Wiggling it slightly, Sir ensured it was solidly in place, as Dane struggled to catch his breath. Seemingly satisfied, Sir reached up and at last released Dane's head from its tether. His neck relieved, his head sank to the drool soaked sheets beneath him. Sir's fingers worked into his hair, massaging his fatigued scalp. Firm, comforting fingers worked their way down to his neck, and he felt that hazy sensation creeping back in again.

Distantly, he realized Sir was also unfastening the straps around his arms. He expected a change, a shift, or a break of some form. He even gently removed the leather mitts that covered his hands. But before allowing his arms to fall free, Sir began to refasten them. No, not quite fastening, there were no straps. He was sliding something snug over Dane's arms, encasing them. Only when it started to cinch closed did Dane realize it was a full arm binder. Sir laced it up tighter and tighter, forcing Dane's shoulders back further and further. Straps wound around his shoulders and chest, securing it all in place. He could only let out a pathetic sound as Sir manipulated him.

It didn't stop there. From the tip of his tightly encased hands, he felt something tug, and with marginal movement he had vanished, coupled with a slightly increased pressure around his knees. The binder had been fixed to the bar holding his legs apart. 

Sir continued to move him around, rocking him from one side to the other. The movement was disorienting, leaving him out of breath. Only once he was settled again and felt the pressure did he realize what it had been for. A pair of straps had been slid beneath him, one each to go around his body at elbows and wrists. Sir pulled them tight, making Dane's breath shallower and shallower.

Fitfully he rolled his head against the mattress, letting out a pleading sound. But it wasn't a toy's place to question, and the protest earned him a sharp slap to his still stinging ass. 

Was it added to teach him a lesson, or had Sir planned it all along? Because after the slap, he felt his hair grabbed and once more fastened to the straps on his arms. He found it even more difficult to move now than before, his hips barely able to wriggle now. 

He felt Sir's teeth on his ear and he shuddered. He heard the low rumble of indistinct words. A command? A threat? Praise? He couldn't tell even the tone, just that something had been spoken.

A warning, he'd figured. When there was a sudden jolt in his ass. It was so sudden and sharp, he thought for a moment that he'd been shocked by something. His hips jerked and ground against the bed, as the jackhammer hard vibration threatened to rattle his teeth. Desperate, guttural sounds dragged out of his throat, his eyes wide behind the blindfold.

It lasted only a few moments, before fading down to a mere whisper. It left him panting and whimpering, leaking around ring gag and cage alike. 

As he calmed down, he realized Sir wasn't on the bed with him any longer. In fact, he didn't know if Sir was even still in the room. As a test, he let out that pleading, questioning sound again.

Nothing happened.

That's when he realized a growing dilemma. What he'd assumed was a mere whisper of vibration had only seemed like a whisper on contrast. As the shock of that initial blast faded, he started to notice it was a bit stronger that a whisper. The added length wasn't helping matters either, as it fell just barely short of that sweet spot that could send him over the edge. Instead, it could just keep him frustrated beyond reason without risking any accidents. 

He squirmed and thrashed against his bonds, hoping maybe he could push it just a little bit deeper. Maybe get a little motion. But he barely squirmed. He couldn't shift the plug any easier than he could lower his head or get to his feet. 

Letting out a pathetic whine, he realized he was in for a lengthy afternoon.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dane gets another chance to pass the test

The rest of the week seemed to blur together in a haze of darkness and need. Outside of his daily shower Dane could barely recall a span of more than a few minutes spent without something obscuring his vision. Not once during the week was he allowed the use of his hands, wrapped or covered in some fashion and always fastened. Whether behind his back or to something else. At least half the time his ears were as blocked as his eyes, leaving him unable to track anything outside of himself. Sir used him until he was trembling and gasping, several times a day. Or left him tormented and squirming, wanting to beg for anything at all. However, he was never onced pushed far enough to find out whether or not it was possible to acheive orgams in a chastity cage. Every night he went to sleep desperate and throbbing, only to dream of further lustful torments.

Friday was marked by a change to the routine. For the first time in a week, after his shower, Sir merely handed him a shirt to wear. No leather, no blindfold. While Dane was grateful for a little freedom and the ability to stretch his legs, he was perplexed. They ate breakfast together as they always had before this test, but Dane found it difficult to make conversation. Even he found that strange himself, since the task had been set because he usually wasn't able to run his mouth. 

While they cleaned up after their meal, Sir explained the reason for this shift. Dane was being given a break before they attempted his actual test again that evening. It was the exact same terms as the previous time: if he passed he would be allowed an orgasm and freed from his cage, if he failed he would be returned to the cage and they would try again in another week. 

At first, Dane thought he knew what he wanted. He vowed to pass the test, to prove he could be good. But as the day dragged on and he tried to act more himself, he found his conviction failing. He wanted to be good for Sir, but he also craved more of what the week had been. Day after day drifting in a haze, gripped by frustration and need that bordered on agony. He didn't want it to end, but he wanted to be good.

After dinner, they moved to the living room to commence with the test. As Sir gently bound Dane's arms behind his back, he felt his heart leaping in his chest. He didn't know which he wanted more any longer. All he needed to do in order to pass the test was not allow his voice to exceed a certain volume. While he hadn't avoided it completely that week, he'd spent hours at a time doing just that. It shouldn't be so hard for just the hour or two here, should it? But if he passed, they'd go back to normal. They would have their kinky nights, but things that rarely spilled outside the bedroom. 

Plugs were pushed into his ears, muffling the world once more, an eerie calm falling over him. He didn't want this to stop. A thick leather blindfold was pulled across his eyes and fastened snugly behind his head. Don't let it end. His legs were fastened, calf to thigh, with firm belts. Helpless once more. 

Finally, he felt Sir's fingers through the bars of his cage. He was already straining within its confines, mindlessly desperate after two full weeks without any sort of release. He bit hard on his lip, not wanting to fail so soon, but he couldn't hold back the gasp as he felt the lock fall free. Nor could he halt the soft moan as the cage slid away. His breath quickened, his cock hardening fully as it had tried to do so desperately for the last week. 

Through the earplugs, he heard the TV turned on, but couldn't make out what was on. Something soft, or the volume was turned down lower. It could be anything. A show, a movie, a commercial. How long would the test last? Could he convince himself to be good, despite what he wanted? What would Sir do in another week of treating him like a toy?

His questions failed him as Sir's hand wrapped around him, stroking him gently. Only when he wavered was he guided slowly to lay back, his head in Sir's lap. He feared that a few strokes would be enough to send him over the edge, but if he just relaxed into it, maybe he could last a little longer. 

Relaxing did very little, as soon he couldn't help the faint, pleading whimpers that escaped him. He wasn't going to minutes, let alone hours. He pressed his head back against Sir's lap, his hips trying to grind up against those gentle strokes. The squirming quickly earned him a sharp flick to the hip. He wasn't supposed to move.

Sir gave him a break, his hand travelling up Dane's torso to tease him elsewhere. Trailing over his stomach and chest, dragging a thumb over a nipple. Slowly, Dane's heart rate calmed and he could breathe a little easier. He could call it off, if he wanted to, he realized. The uttering of a single word and he'd get his orgasm. No, if he did that, it all stopped. The whole game would come to an end, and that was the last thing he wanted. 

Before he could fully settle himself, Sir's fingers wrapped around him again. Only this time, there were no strokes. His fingers rested there, his thumb making slow, teasing circles around the tip of Dane's cock. A tremble started in his thighs that spread outward to the rest of his body, until he was whimpering again. It burned deeper than anything else Sir had done, as if that simple touch were turning his blood to lava. He feared it might consume him completely, his brain falling away to static, his hips starting that squirm in time with those gentle circle.

Then it stopped and he was left gasping. He felt Sir's hand in his hair, gently combing through it. He'd thought he'd seen all that Sir could do to him, all the ways he could be driven wild. Yet somehow that one simple touch was enough to melt him from the inside. He wanted more, and he didn't want it to stop. But when next Sir grasped him, it was merely to stroke him, slow and gentle. And again, when Dane started to squirm and whine, it stopped.

Again and again, Sir would stroke him briefly before stopping. Each time allowing him to calm down. The stop and start made him dizzy, made it harder to fight those surges that left him worried he might explode and ruin the game. He'd lost track of how many times Sir had stroked him and stopped, he'd started to forget how anything else had felt. Until on another round, he felt Sir's thumb grazing his tip. He let out a low groan, struggling to stay still so it wouldn't stop. 

He hadn't moved, he would swear he hadn't moved. But just as his mind started to drift away on that flood of white-hot bliss, Sir's hand pulled away. He let out a pleading groan that earned a sharp slap under the chin as a warning. 

The pattern began again. Start, stop. Start, stop. Never enough to push him fully to the edge, never quite enough to calm down completely. Breathless and desperate. Dane forgot to try to hear the television, forgot to try to figure out what he was being timed against. 

The third time Sir's thumb found his tip, the effect was instant. Like when the stage show hypnotists touched someone on the forehead, he went down instantly, his mind going to white nothingness. Only when Sir's hand pulled away this time did he realize why it worked so easily. It wasn't that Sir had never touched him like that, it was the build up of need combined with such a sensitive touch. If he came again, it would be weeks before he could feel it again.

Frantic to feel it again, he let out a strangled cry. His hips thrust hard, trying to feel that hand again. He felt the sharp slap of warning to his chest. He calmed down slightly, coming to his senses. Would saying he wanted to fail be the same as ending the game? So close to an orgasm, and all he wanted was to never let it happen. To be Sir's toy always. To be helpless and desperate and mindless always.

When Sir's hand find him again and started to stroke, he let out a gasping whimper that grew and grew with each breath until it dropped into a desperate groan. Third strike, he'd failed the test. 

Unlike last time, Sir didn't keep stroking him, didn't push him to the end of the time limit. This time he immediately felt the cold of the ice pack between his legs that softened his erection quickly. It left him more frustrated than he thought possible, knowing it would be another week before he felt Sir's hands in such a way again. 

Quickly, the cage was put back into place. Understandably, as he was already straining against the bars before he felt the lock click shut. He squirmed slightly, whimpering. Another week before he could feel that deep, hot bliss in such a way again. 

He felt his blindfold being lifted up slightly on one side, Sir's fingers pushing up against his ear. Light spilled in, but it wasn't enough to see anything. The earplug on that side was tugged free and the blindfold put back down. The process was repeated on the other side, leaving Dane able to hear once again.

"It seems my toy doesn't understand the value of being quiet," Sir said sternly. If Dane hadn't known him so well, he would have taken the tone for genuine disappointed, but he could hear the faint edge of delight in there as well. "I believe it's time for a more severe lesson." 

Sir got up from the couch, lowering Dane's head to the cushions. He wasn't gone for more than a few moments before Dane felt something passed behind his neck. A collar, he thought, as it was cinched and drawn snug. But sir didn't stop there. He pulled harder, slowly, drawing the collar tighter and tighter around Dane's throat. He went stiff, his chin lifting as he felt his airway starting to be constricted. 

Shy of choking him completely, Sir at last buckled the collar, tucking the free end away. It took conscious effort to breathe or swallow past the snug leather, and of Dane feared if he moved his head from that position it would become even more difficult. 

"I believe...two hours like this will suffice," Sir said with a wicked lilt to his voice. "Minimum. Every day. Perhaps if you understand that as my toy your very breath is allowed only with my permission, you will be better in control of your voice." 

Dane heard him walk away, out of the room. His heart hammered in his chest as he focused on drawing each breath. Two hours? Was that even possible? He'd suffocate wouldn't he? Panic threatened to consume him and tried to free his arms. The movement shifted his neck, making the collar dig in harder, forcing him to stop. He focused again on his breathing. So long as he did that, he seemed to be okay. A little light headed, but otherwise okay.

He could move his head a little, he discovered. Some positions were better than others, but lowering his chin cut off his breath completely. Okay, if he just stayed still, he'd be fine. Close to fine, because his cage felt even more suffocating than the belt. 

How long had he been there, dizzy and conscious of his every breath, before Sir returned? He felt a hand on his hair, a thumb over his lips. Instinctively, he wrapped his lips around it, lifting his head slightly. As he ran his tongue over it, he knew he was cutting off his own breath by closing his lips, but he wanted to make Sir happy. 

He was moved then, Sir lifting him from the couch and settling him on the floor. Once there, Sir ran his finger along the collar where it dug into Dane's skin. "It's a shame I can't keep you like this, it's a good look for you." For a moment, Dane found it difficult to think of anything at all, his mind overwhelmed by the idea of needing to fight for every single breath as Sir's toy. Only when he felt Sir's hand under his chin, dragging him back to reality, did he realize that idea filled him with that same white-hot pleasure he'd felt before. 

He didn't have time to process this realization, as he felt Sir's hand gripping his hair. A moment later, he felt something pressing against his lips. Not Sir's thumb, this time. He opened his lips, expecting to do the same, lavishing the tip of Sir's cock with his tongue. But instead, Sir pulled hard on his hair, thrusting deep into his restricted throat.

The sensation was new, frightening, thrilling. It took more force than usual, Sir's cock forcing passed the tight collar. As his face was buried against Sir's groin, he couldn't draw even the faintest breath. Already so deprived of a full breath, his lungs started burning in mere moments. He squirmed, resisting the urge to struggle, as his throat spasmed, desperate for air. 

Only when he thought he might pass out did Sir drag his head back. Drool slid from his lips as he instantly dragged in a harsh, gasping breath. Whimpers escaped with each gasp, his throat already raw and aching. The desperate sounds had barely started to subside, still having not caught his breath, when Sir pulled him back down. This time, there was no delay before his lungs burned. He started to choke, his throat trying to expel the obstruction. But as he fought his own body, he heard Sir let out a low groan of pure bliss. 

Again he was pulled back from the brink of passing out. This time he coughed and gagged, the sounds he let out closer to sobs than anything. His lips felt stretched and raw, and he couldn't get enough air passed the collar. 

A third time Sir pulled his head down, forcing his cock deep into Dane's throat. Tears burned on his cheeks, falling from beneath the blindfold. He squirmed, tugging at his bonds, as his body demanded oxygen. But still Sir held him tight, not letting him escape. 

This time he did sob when he was allowed air. It was as involuntary as the drool that fell over his chin. But oh god he didn't want to end. He could barely think, too light headed and too desperate to breathe, and still the cage was more stifling than anything Sir was doing to him. The carpet was growing damp beneath him, his cock leaking through the bars of the cage.

Sir got to his feet, moving Dane back slightly. Taking Dane by the hair again, he thrust deep in the toy's throat. Only this time he didn't stop there. He pulled back, only to trust again, harder than the first. Holding Dane's head in an iron grip, he fucked his throat harder and harder. Dane was able to get in desperate gasps between strokes, resulting in desperate, sobbing sounds around Sir's shaft. 

Just when Dane thought he couldn't take any more, his throat raw, fearing he might pass out, Sir pulled free. It left Dane gasping, his entire face wet with tears and saliva. His entire body trembled, not knowing what would come next. All he could do was focus on getting enough air passed the collar.

Still trying to recover, Sir moved him back onto the couch. He couldn't stop shaking. Sir was saying something, but he couldn't make it out. He could only focus on what shallow breaths he could manage. He didn't even realize Sir was on top of him, until he felt the saliva-slicked cock pressing into his ass. 

He barely processed the first thrust. The combination of struggling to breathe, of the pressure of Sir pushing into him, of the rough fabric of the couch rubbing against his trapped and desperate cock, pushed him into that place that white and hot and full of nothing. The sounds of the world seemed to drop away into nothing but agonizing pleasure. Sir's words against his ear were nonsense. He could only make out words like Mine, Slut, and Toy. 

As he came, Sir grabbed Dane's hair, pulling him back to reality slightly. For a moment, Dane couldn't breathe, but he didn't care. He felt Sir inside him, using him, growling in his ear. He didn't need to breathe, did he? 

Once Sir was finished, he pulled himself free. Before Dane could relax, the plug he'd been free from all day was at last returned. No, not the same plug. This one was wider and heavier than the one he'd grown accustomed to over the last week. Only then did he realize that Sir didn't intend to clean him up. Not yet. Sealing his cum inside him. Dane's cheeks burned as he pressed his face into the cushion. 

That lasted a mere moment, as he jerked his head up so he could breathe again. 

Sir left for a few minutes, and Dane heard water running deeper in the house. He could only lay there, trying desperately to catch his breath. Much easier, now that he seemed to be growing accustomed to the collar so tight around his neck.

He was starting to drift off--asleep or unconscious, he wasn't sure--when Sir came back. He sat Dane up without a word, unfastening the bonds around his arms. He wasn't given time to stretch, as his arms were guided into canvas sleeves of some sort. As the garment was pulled snug against his chest, he realized it was a straight jacket. When had Sir acquired a straight jacket? It fit Dane's arms a little more snug than he expected, especially as Sir started to fasten the back. 

Before the sleeves were drawn around the back, Dane's arms were fed through loops on the chest, pinning his arms down firmly to his stomach. Once the ends of the sleeves were fastened to his back, he could barely move his arms. It seemed, though, Sir was not done. A strap was drawn around his arms, just above the elbows, cinching tighter, until he couldn't move his arms at all. Another set of straps were drawn up between his legs, tugging everything down and securing it all as firmly as possible. After Sir checked everything making sure it was snug without being too tight, Dane heard the tell-tale snaps of locks closing. 

Dane let out a soft whimper, finding it just slightly harder to breathe now. 

It seemed Sir wasn't finished. He pushed Dane onto his back and set to unfastening the belts around his legs. Just with his arms, something slid over his legs that felt a lot like canvas, and it hugged his legs as it reached the tops of his thighs. Only this was more like the armbinder, holding them snug together, a thin layer of fabric between. Sir forced his legs to bend again, before he set to fastening everything. Buckles were pulled closed, securing his legs together, folded calf to thigh. When Sir was finished, he could bare move his limbs at all. His hips and neck seemed to be the only things that remained mobile. And again, the snaps of several locks being closed. 

Satisfied with it all, Sir sat Dane back up. His fingers played over the snug collar and he let out a soft sigh of resignation before at last unbuckling it. 

Immediately Dane dragged in breath after breath. The jacket prevented them from being as deep as he really wanted, but still it was freeing. While he breathed deeply, Sir finished one last buckle on the straight jacket. The collar came up high and Dane stiffened. It was more rigid than the rest of the jacket, and he felt it close around his throat. But Sir left it loose enough to breathe freely. 

"This will be your standard bedtime attire," Sir said gently as he closed the lock on the collar. "It's always best to put toys away securely for the night." 

Dane felt his cock throb hard at the idea. He could barely move. Left this way every night, just to sleep? Sir truly was wicked.

A ball gag was pushed into his mouth, secured with another lock. And finally, his earplugs were returned. 

How much later he was finally moved from the couch, he couldn't say. Sir sat with him for some time, stroking his hair, or stroking his cock through the bars of his cage. He drifted, in frustration and bliss, unable to move. When at last they did move, he was put into his cage beneath the bed. Though he didn't hear it, he was sure the door was locked securely shut. 

As he lay there, immobile in the dark, he hoped with all his heart Sir did not tire of this game. He drifted off to sleep wondering just how long he could put off being freed.


End file.
